


The Psiioniic's Vision

by Chichirinoda



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, M/M, Master/Slave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2011-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-22 17:45:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chichirinoda/pseuds/Chichirinoda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A thousand years before the game session, early in the rise of the Sufferer's cult, the Psiioniic is in the service of a sea dwelling highblood. But a psychic vision may hold the key to his freedom, and salvation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Psiioniic's Vision

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kink Bingo, for the prompt: Masters, doms, slaves and subs.

_The ship is dashed on the rocks and the spider ransacks the hallways, spilling treasure into the sea. It sinks, gold winking cheerfully through the rainbow clouds of blood._

 _His master lies broken on the stones._

 _The Subjugglator's eyes glint with hunger over a grinning mouth as he tears into him, purple blood staining his fangs and his mouth laughing. And the spider stands on a distant peak, laughing even more loudly than the clown._

 _And he is too far away to help, as he now serves a different master. The Psiioniic turns his face away from the troll pleading through dead lips for salvation, the reaching hand stained with purple. The saved one smiles into crimson eyes as they turn together and walk into the light._

======>

The troll known only as the Psiioniic woke abruptly, tangled in sheets and cold from the drying sweat on his bare skin. He lay for a moment, staring up at the bulkhead close above his head and gasping for breath as if he had been sprinting, not merely sleeping.

"A vision," he murmured aloud, the sound of his own voice slightly comforting. It seemed to push away the last cobwebs of the frighteningly vivid dream, leaving him tired, but alert.

There was only one thing he was supposed to do when he had a vision like that. He rose from the bed and dressed quickly, then hurried down the hallways of the ship, twisting the small metal bracelet on his right wrist with nervous fingers.

The bracelet was a single piece of metal, and he had worn it since he had completed his training and been assigned a handler. It bore his master's symbol, two waves, embossed in his master's exact shade of purple, to show anyone who challenged him whom he belonged to and on whose behalf he served.

Most psychics of his kind were given special schoolfeeding after reaching maturity, and then given to a sea dweller or favoured highblood land dweller. Many became helmsmen, of course, but not all, and those who were flexible enough were given assignments that required such flexibility in abilities.

As one of the most powerful psychics in living memory, his schooling had been especially rigorous, and his assignment particularly prestigious. He no longer remembered the name he had had when he was young, but he also didn't care.

It was the middle of the ship's 'day' cycle, though the lights remained at a low burn, like the comforting dusk of Alternia. Most of the ship's crew were asleep, and the Psiioniic knew his master also likely would be among them, but his orders were strict. If he had a vision, he should inform his master personally, and without delay, regardless of the circumstances.

As he reached the door, he paused, and his stomach dropped at the sounds issuing faintly from inside. His master wasn't alone, and from the noises - growls and hisses, slaps and cries, and the titter of feminine laughter - it wasn't one of the ship's slaves, but his master's kismesis. The very one he suspected he had just dreamed of, laughing over his master's death.

Still, his orders were absolute. He touched his fingertips to the pad next to the door, which read his skin's temperature and made a soft chime, pitched to account for the level of his blood, so as to tell his master just how important - or unimportant - the person outside his door was.

A few moments later, a snarl issued from beyond the door and it slid open. Orphaner Dualscar sat in a chair, wine glass in one hand and his shirt half-undone. Mindfang sat sideways in his lap, not dishevelled in the least, except for a bit of purple blood running from the corner of her mouth. She licked it away with relish and turned her eyes towards the yellowblood standing just beyond the threshold.

The Psiioniic stepped inside and dropped to his knees. "Mathter, I came in accordanthe with your orderth. Highblood, I apologithe for dithturbing you with your kithmethith."

He didn't want to mention his vision overtly in the presence of the dangerous woman, who would surely use the information to her advantage.

Dualscar's eyes were narrowed with irritation. "Wwhat orders?" he demanded, sneering. "This had better be important, boy. I could havve left you in the hallwway to wwait, but you don't usually get me out of bed in the middle of the day for trifles."

"Yes, thir," he said, curling his hands against his knees and desperately willing his master to understand. He could be a little short-sighted at times. Not that the Psiioniic expected his master to share _his_ sight, but occasionally it was a little frustrating, and he sometimes wondered if all non-psychics were just a bit dense.

There was a short silence - the kind of expectant silence the Psiioniic dreaded as a harbinger of a more specific question - and then Mindfang laughed. "Why he's adorable! Especially with that lisp. I really should get myself one, one of these days."

"First of all," Dualscar growled, momentarily distracted from the Psiioniic, to the yellowblood's relief. "Your blood is far too loww to merit one of anything close to his powwer, if you could evven convvince the schoolfeeders that a piece of criminal blue-blood trash like yourself could be trusted with a psychic. Secondly, you don't _need_ one, Mindfang. Your owwn powwers are stronger than most of these bottomfeeders anywway."

She laughed again and the Psiioniic snuck a look up, watching as she drank from Dualscar's glass and then stood, all long limbs and a wild mane of curly black hair. "How surprisingly complimentary, Dualscar."

The sea troll huffed and glared at them, the two vicious scars that crossed his face twisting the expression into an even more menacing scowl. They said that he had had an encounter with a cave crab during his trials in the breeding caverns, which had left his face disfigured. The Psiioniic vaguely recalled seeing the ten-foot monsters during his own trials, though he had been able to avoid most dangers using his abilities.

Mindfang crossed the room and went to one knee before the Psiioniic, then grabbed his chin, turning his face up to look at hers.

He blinked his dual-coloured eyes in curiosity, and then shied away as he felt a touch on his mind, pressing, questing. "Thtop that," he gasped, then yellowed as he realized what he'd said.

"Wwhat the fuck are you doin' to my slavve, Mindfang? This isn't one of your pathetic sex toys. He's a vvaluable tool for the Empire!" Dualscar snapped. "Damnit, if you can't keep your filthy pawws off my property, then get out of here. I'm done wwith you for the day."

Her eyes flashed with irritation, and she dug a claw into the Psiioniic's cheek before letting go and rising to her feet again. She huffed and tossed her hair back, rolling her eyes. "Well, if I'm boring you, Dualscar, perhaps we'll have to continue our repartee another time. You obviously have something more _important_ to do."

She gestured at the lowblood on the floor, then swept past him, boots clicking on the decking as she left.

Blood trickled down his face. He lifted a hand and wiped it away.

The door slid closed behind him and he sensed Mindfang lingering for a moment. He kept his mouth shut, his eyes lowered, feeling another drop of filthy blood running down his cheek and dripping off his chin.

Dualscar muttered to himself and poured another cup of wine, then finally gestured to him. "Come here. Since you ruined my evvening, you'll havve to make it up to me."

The Psiioniic looked up. "What, thir?"

"Didn't you hear me?" Dualscar hissed, leaning forward in his chair a little and gesturing with his wine glass. A little slopped over the edge. "Come here, boy."

He rose obediently and approached his master, uncertain of what was expected of him. Dualscar looked somewhat the worse for wear, his armour put away and shirt sloppy and half-undone. He had a few deep scratches in his chest and a bite mark low on his neck, which was leaking purple blood.

"Thir, your kithmethith--"

"Shut up for noww, don't you think I knoww she's listening?" the sea troll sneered, gesturing again. The Psiioniic looked around and saw a small monitor on the desk beside Dualscar, visible from this vantage point, which showed a view of the hallway outside the door. Mindfang loitered casually there, leaning against the wall and fiddling with a small palm-sized husktop.

Oh. The lowblood nodded his understanding, then yelped in surprise as Dualscar grabbed his wrist and tugged him closer, pulling him downwards.

"Bitch is alwways going on about her disgusting slavves like there's any chance of some filthy dirt blood havvin' the capacity for real redrom emotions. You really think there's a capacity for pity in one a them, for someone like her?" Dualscar muttered.

The Psiioniic wasn't sure if he was talking to him, or to himself, as the sea dweller set his cup aside and tugged and pulled until the slave was sitting in Dualscar's lap, in approximately the same position Mindfang had occupied when he first arrived.

His heart was pounding very fast in his chest, and he swallowed, winding his arms around Dualscar's neck and trying to get comfortable. "Ah...I don't think tho. What would they pity her for?"

"Exactly," Dualscar growled. "She's just tryin' to make me jealous, I knoww it."

Psiioniic opened his mouth, then closed it again, thinking better of what he'd been about to say. Why would a potential red relationship, particularly with a lowblood, make her kismesis jealous? Probably not a good idea to question it. He knew his master's moods, and this was not a good one.

"Yes, thir," he murmured softly.

Dualscar picked up his wine glass and took a large swallow, then set it down again. The next moment, the sea troll's fingers were at the hem of the Psiioniic's shirt, pushing it up to bare a flat stomach. The muscles jumped under the skin as Dualscar played his claws over the tender skin.

"Ah...? Mathter?" He wasn't a sex slave, not trained at all in this sort of thing. He was trained to be obedient, though, and though he squirmed a bit in nervous discomfort, the thought of absconding didn't cross his mind.

"Fool," Dualscar muttered. "I told you, you'll havve to make it up to me, for interruptin'. Or are you too thick to get it?"

Blood was rising to the slave's cheeks and he shook his head, whimpering as Dualscar's fingers played lower, toying with his bulge through the simple pants he had thrown on over his nudity.

"You'vve nevver so much as done this, havve you?" Dualscar said with a strange note of satisfaction in his tone. "Just wwaiting to servve. And you'll be bred someday, I guess. To some other freak wwith nothin' but piss in their vveins, hoping for a good genetic match wwith just as much powwer, or evven more."

The Psiioniic shivered and shrugged his shoulders a little. He tried not to think about such things, losing himself in doing a good job for his master and not thinking too hard about the future. He was destined to be bred like an animal, he knew, and though he wasn't sure why, it bothered him a little. Not to know or have any control over whom he mixed his genetic material with. Never to have romance for himself.

"Bet it excites you, the idea of mixin' your material wwith a fine specimen like myself," Dualscar went on, his fingers rubbing harder against the slave's bulge through the fabric of his pants. "Wwould you like to just go ahead and get out the pail wwith me? Maybe mix your freak genes wwith some sea dwweller and see wwhat happens?"

For a moment, the Psiioniic's mouth worked. He had no idea what to say to that...that staggering idea. "Whatever...whatever you want, thir? I wouldn't-- I mean, I don't know--"

Dualscar laughed nastily and gave the Psiioniic a hard shove. The slave tumbled from his master's lap and nearly caught himself with his powers. At the last moment, he thought better of it and suppressed the reflex, landing hard on his side on the floor and sprawling on the carpet.

"Good answwer," Dualscar said. "On your knees, slavve."

The Psiioniic swallowed and pushed himself upwards obediently, bowing his head as he knelt in front of his master, his entire body tensed in anticipation of another blow. Dualscar rarely treated him that badly - as his master had said before, he was a valuable resource, and the psychic rarely gave his master a reason to punish him. But he had smelled the wine on Dualscar's breath earlier, and suspected that he'd had most of that mostly-empty bottle on the desk.

"I really don't get it," Dualscar said morosely. "Wwhy no one treats me wwith the proper respect that I'm due. Only trash like you, and most of the slavves don't even knoww howw to do that much."

A beringed hand landed in the Psiioniic's hair, almost a rough sort of caress, before the sea troll curled fingers around two of his horns and tugged his head forward. Dualscar's bulge strained against his pants, and it wasn't hard to figure out what he wanted him to do, at least in a general sense.

With shaking fingers, the Psiioniic opened Dualscar's fly and lowered his head, his two tongues darting out to lick the hard ridge of bone between Dualscar's legs.

Dualscar groaned and gentled his grip, his fingers moving in a sort of petting gesture as the psychic licked cautiously, not even considering doing anything that might bring his mouthful of teeth closer to his master's tender flesh. The softer flesh of Dualscar's bulge snaked out from underneath the protective shield of bone and began feel about mindlessly, curling up against the Psiioniic's cheek. He turned his head and licked along the flexible shaft, and Dualscar cried out, his hips jerking up once.

Then suddenly Dualscar grabbed his horns again, tugging his head back away. The slave whimpered again, his head pulled back at a harsh angle as Dualscar got to his feet, dragging his head up and around with him. Just as suddenly, Dualscar released him.

"Get those fuckin' clothes off," Dualscar commanded in a hiss. He leaned back in his chair, wine glass in hand, and glared at him expectantly.

Nervously, the Psiioniic's eyes flicked to the monitor. The coast was clear - Mindfang was gone. But he'd been given a command, and he hadn't yet fulfilled his orders, either.

Sighing, he got to his feet and pulled off his shirt and pants, dropping them where he stood, and toeing out of his shoes.

Even as he undressed, he heard a soft gasp. He looked up and saw Dualscar staring at him with lips slightly parted, his purple eyes wide. Psiioniic swallowed hard and tried to resist the urge to cover himself, letting his hands clench into fists at his sides and trying to control their trembling.

"Your mutant body is an utterly disgusting sight," Dualscar declared, and the psychic took two quick steps back, reflexively.

"I'm thorry!"

"Get the _fuck_ back here!" his master snapped, leaning forward in his chair.

Caught between two strong impulses, the Psiioniic froze, shivering from panic. Slowly, he edged back towards Dualscar, hunching his shoulders a bit under the glare he received from his master.

"Wwhen I dismiss you, _then_ you can leavve," Dualscar growled. "You knoww that."

"I'm thorry, mathter," the lowblood whispered. He knew his body was twisted and freakish, and that if it hadn't been for his powerful psychic abilities, he would have been culled the moment he escaped the breeding caverns.

"You're forgivven, for noww," Dualscar said with a rather egalitarian tone. He sat up, and gestured. "Straddle me."

Obedient, if still very hesitant and frightened, the Psiioniic stepped closer and leaned into his master, climbing into the large chair with him, and settling with his knees on either side of the sea dweller's powerful thighs. He was slender, a little starved, while Dualscar was a powerful highblood warrior. He felt dwarfed, even if he wasn't actually that much shorter than Dualscar.

His two bulges were still very much drawn behind their protective sheath. He was aroused, but his shame and nervousness had pulled them back beneath their protective shell like turtles.

Dualscar glanced down between them and reached down, then hesitated before touching, his expression creasing slightly in disgust.

Psiioniic swallowed a lump. "You don't have to, uh...touch me, if you don't want to, mathter."

"I don't havve to do _anything_ I don't wwant to, slavve," Dualscar sneered back.

Almost as if in vengeance for the comment, he curled his fingers around Psiioniic's bulges, rubbing at the underside with his fingertips as his other hand came around and pressed into the small of Psiioniic's back, steadying him.

It was lucky he did hold him that way, because Psiioniic keened and bucked hard into that rough touch, totally unprepared for the intensity of the sparks of pleasure that ran through him.

"That's it," Dualscar all but crooned, rubbing a little harder and digging his claws a little into the base of the Psiioniic's spine. "Givve yourself to me."

"W-whatever...you want..." the slave whispered, not just because he thought it was what Dualscar wanted to hear, but because of the truth of it.

Dualscar all but purred aloud, dragging the Psiioniic closer and nipping at his throat. "That's right. Wwhatever I fuckin' wwant. At least _you_ care, evven if it's just because you'vve been fuckin' brainswwashed until there's barely a unique thought in your head."

The Psiioniic blushed, feeling shame at his master's words. He wasn't _that_ bad, was he? And it wasn't as though he had a choice. This was where he was meant to be. His fate.

"I can be a little creative," he murmured, rocking his hips helplessly into Dualscar's hand. His own arms were locked around Dualscar's neck and he freed one of them, reaching down to caress the bulge that still squirmed in the opened fly of Dualscar's pants. It snaked out, coiling around his wrist.

Dualscar gasped with pleasure, then growled. "P-put your hand back wwhere it wwas until I order you to movve it."

He swallowed and obeyed, pressing his chest to Dualscar's and lowering his head to the sea troll's shoulder. "Thorry."

"You're _mine_ ," Dualscar hissed, and shifted, pulling the Psiioniic's hips flush against his stomach. "All you'vve got a do is wwhat I tell you."

He felt the sea troll's bulge coiling against his nook and cried out as he was penetrated, shivering as the flexible shaft worked its way inside and writhed against his inner walls in a manner unlike anything he had ever felt before.

Dualscar shuddered against him, and he felt his own bulges seeking to penetrate the other troll in return, but in this position there was nowhere for them to go. Each time he moved, more powerful sparks of pleasure shot through him, not only from where his master took him, but from the sensitive shafts of his bulges rubbing against the fabric of Dualscar's shirt.

But he couldn't come.

He squirmed and cried out and Dualscar began to shudder and shake against him, spilling his genetic material deep inside his nook. It felt _so good_ , but without the proper stimulation to his bulges, he couldn't find that release.

Finally his master was done with him, and Dualscar pushed the shuddering, desperate slave onto the floor again. The Psiioniic sprawled, then curled into a ball, crying out at every tiny stimulating sensation, from the carpet rubbing against his skin, to his own body touching his over-stimulated bulges.

"You wwant more?" Dualscar sneered, standing over him and draining his glass.

"P-pleathe...!"

"In the bathroom. I'm not dirtying my clean fuckin' floor with piss blood material."

Desperate not to earn any of his master's ire, the Psiioniic scrambled awkwardly to his feet and fled to the ablution block, stumbling to his knees on the tiled floor and pressing his cheek against the cool wall, gasping.

Dualscar entered unhurriedly and dropped to one knee behind him, reaching around and curling his fingers around the sensitive shafts of his bulge, squeezing them together and rubbing up and down with practiced strokes.

The slave cried out, shuddering and writhing, pressing himself back desperately against his master and scraping furrows in the wall with his claws. It took only moments before he was spilling himself over the floor, a great gush of yellowish fluid that spattered onto the tile.

Dualscar grunted and got to his feet, grabbing a towel and wiping his fingers. "Clean up and get out." Then he walked from the room.

Nude and panting for breath, the Psiioniic shivered on the floor for a few moments before getting slowly to his feet. He cleaned up the mess, inside and out, then plodded back out to the main room, finding Dualscar poking at his computer in a distracted sort of manner.

The slave moved quickly to his pile of clothing and dressed, his face averted and burning. He felt a rather sharp stab of irritation. He'd done nothing to merit this, and it had been frightening and unnecessary. Why had Dualscar decided to punish him like this?

And he was still completely ignoring the whole reason why the Psiioniic had come there in the first place. If he was no better than any other slave, then what was the point in going through everything he had suffered in his life? Why did they pretend he had some special use to the Empire?

"I'vve got a mission for you," Dualscar said, startling the Psiioniic out of his increasingly annoyed thoughts.

"A mission?" he echoed, startled.

"Yeah, I wwas going to tell you tomorroww, but I might as wwell do it noww. Come."

Obediently, the Psiioniic moved closer, then stiffened as Dualscar dragged him down into his lap once more. He shifted, blushing, with the sea troll's arm cinched hard around his waist, and looked at the monitor.

And then he had to repress a surprised cry. He had seen this face, in his dream.

"This mutated freak is recruiting people all over Alternia for some kind a lowwblood revvolution," Dualscar said, tapping a claw on the screen. There was no sound to the video, but the Psiioniic could see the troll speaking to a crowd of people. His eyes were a curious shade of red.

"A revolution?" he murmured. "Why?"

Dualscar snorted. "Some kind a heretical ideas about lowwbloods like you not being enslavved, and the hemospectrum being wwrong. As if anyone wwith half a brain could believve something so patently impossible and foolish."

"I thee..."

"Anywway, you're gonna let him recruit you, then assassinate him," Dualscar said. "Think you can handle that, boy?"

"I'm...I'm not a laughathhathhin," the Psiioniic protested, blinking in shock. "I've never done--"

"Wwe don't wwant a laughassassin, you pathetic wworm," Dualscar snorted. "He's not lettin' any highbloods close. Wwe need a man on the inside, someone he believves he can trust, to get close enough to kill him. And he _wwill_ be killed. You got that?"

The Psiioniic turned his attention to the monitor again. He had a sick, nauseated feeling in the pit of his stomach. But he could do it, of course. He was his master's tool, and killing someone wasn't exactly difficult for a psychic of his power.

But there was something kind in that troll's eyes. Something that made him feel sick to look at.

"Yeth mathter."

"Okay, good. Noww get out of here. I need some fuckin' sleep." Dualscar barely gave him time to jump up before standing up himself.

The Psiioniic backed away, bowing, then hesitated. "Mathter, I had a vision. That'th why I came to you tonight."

Dualscar blinked. "A vvision? Wwhat of?"

He hesitated a long moment, recalling the dream.

 _Getting rid of the hemospectrum? Does he really think that's possible?_

 _I want to meet him._

 _I need to know._

He straightened. "Mindfang will betray you. The thubjugglatorth are your only hope. If you take what you know to them, they will do away with her."

Dualscar stared at him. "Wwhat? That bitch... But I don't havve proof."

"Gather proof," the Psiioniic lied, bowing low. "You have time. At leatht a few dothen thweepth. But if you don't go to the thubjugglatorth, one day it will be your blood on her handth. That ith what I've theen."

There was a pregnant silence, then Dualscar sank back down to sit again, broodingly. "You're sure?"

"Abtholutely, mathter."

The sea troll nodded slowly. "You're a good boy. Noww go. Wwhen you'vve killed him, I'll givve you a special rewward."

The Psiioniic bowed once more and departed, turning away and feeling his back straighten just a little bit more. He almost felt as if his face was already bathed in light.

Soon.

Soon, maybe, he would be free.


End file.
